In Exchange for a Merging
by goodmorningjohn
Summary: "You have just begun. Yes, you died. That is irrelevant. Now you have a job to do." Wing!fic


**In Exchange for a Merging**

_By: goodmorningjohn_

_"You have just begun. Yes, you died. That is irrelevant. Now you have a job to do." _

The sky was beautiful when I died. I had been knocked on my back, so I could see it fairly well in those last few moments. It was a violent orange, with a white-blue film, as if it's passion had been filtered into sweetness. It's funny how you never really notice pretty little things like that when you're walking around. Jack was somewhere to my left beating the shit out of the three guys who had jumped me. He was missing the sky. That was okay because Jack was the type of person to always notice the sky most of the time anyways. He liked weather, and he liked how it affected his moods, although they were never consistent. I heard a heavy thud followed by muffled cursing. Jack was winning. I smiled as I drifted off into nothing. My big brother never lost a fight.

When I woke up again, it wasn't to hear my brother fall to my side after he disposed of the thugs. I didn't hear him scream my name as he rushed to check for a pulse, I didn't feel him shaking me to wake up. I did not see the flashing lights of an ambulance, nor did I gasp in pain, awaking at the shock of a defibrillator. Two days later, I did not feel any cold closure to my life as they lowered me six feet deep, in a box made from the flesh of long dead trees. I wasn't there, and the pitiful tradition with which they honored my existence held only meaning for them. I was far away.

My eyes opened up to another sky, only this one wasn't nearly as pretty as the one I had died to. It was smoky, and cold, and full of a stranger's breath. I was on a sidewalk, next to a noisy street. Blinking, I sat up stiffly and wondered if this loud place was heaven. It didn't take long for me to conclude it wasn't. They would never put a traffic jam in heaven, nor did I think a city was much of a paradise. The people milling around me looked curiously at the confused man on the sidewalk. I stood slowly, testing everything. The air, my legs, the smell of street vendors and burning rubber; all were familiar in an earthly way. Yet I felt as though my eyes were not my own, or rather, whoever I had been was taking the first breaths through whoever I was now. My soul burned with a million questions, yet my mind could only offer it the scene before me.

Looking around, I noticed a black van stopped among the frustrated cars in the street. Of all the things that should have caught my attention, that was the thing that held it. Like a primal instinct, I found myself walking confidently up to the van, legs steady and shoulders set at an easy angle. The doors opened for me and I climbed in.

Inside, there was a rather scrawny man with glasses and a set mouth. He barely glanced at me, so entranced was he with the phone in front of him. I could not see who was driving. My attention remained on the man in front of me. After a few moments, he looked up.

"You have questions."

The sentence was neither a question nor an observation. I got the feeling that the man had opened with that a million times before.

"Yes," I replied simply.

"Well save them. You can ask them when I've finished." He adjusted his spectacles carefully.

"You are in London, England. You have just begun. Yes, you died. That is irrelevant. Now you have a job to do."

"A job?"

"A job."

All the questions that should have leaped from my lips at that moment died short at my tongue. It didn't matter, he was right. I was at peace; a steady calm burning in my chest. There was no need to be afraid of whatever was coming. I was separated from mortality. I would be okay.

"Who you were before doesn't matter. You are an angel now, like me. Get that? You die, you become an angel. A low ranking one. Meaning your job, to gain admittance into heaven, is to work on Earth. Follow me so far?"

I nodded, taking my angel status in stride. No point in freaking out at this point. No point in worrying about who I was. It would come to me eventually.

"Good." The man approved of my compliance. "Now here's what you need to understand. You are not human. That can take some getting used to. You don't have to worry about mortal injury anymore, but don't get obvious. Your touch can heal if you let it, and the wings are also a bit-"

At this, I interrupted him. "Wings?"

The man sighed, shrugging off his pull-over. Suddenly, as if they had been there all along, a humongous pair of hawk-like wings appeared, protruding from his back. They must have been 10 feet in span, all bent within the confines of the van. My mouth fell open.

"Why couldn't I see them before?" I asked, entranced.

"Because I didn't want you to see them before," he replied shortly.

I reached my hand out to touch the soft looking russet feathers. Yet I found my fingers passed right through the wonder my eyes could so clearly perceive. I scrunched my eyebrows, confused.

"Are they real?"

"Of course they're real," he said, amused.

"Then why can't I touch them?"

"Because I don't want you to touch them."

I looked at him, a puzzle in my eyes. He smirked, and brushed a wing towards my outstretched hand. This time, my fingers were met with soft downy, and I gently stroked a feather in wonder. What strange creature had I become?

As quickly as they appeared, the wings were suddenly gone and the pull-over replaced.

"That's enough of that," he said casually.

"Can you fly?" I asked before he could move on. He quirked an eyebrow.

"What do you think?"

I was silent. I already knew the answer. He continued.

"Your job as an angel among humans is to protect and maintain the world as God deems. In your case, guarding and caring for a particular person. Do you understand?"

"Yes. What person?"

"You'll know them when you see them."

I accepted it with the same ease I accepted being angel. My world was no longer a canvas of colors to blur, like some terrified human brain, but instead a crisscross of black and white lines to manipulate as I pleased. This was what I had become. Every explanation he offered me simply strengthened that feeling. With a final nod, the man opened the van door for me. I turned back before I stepped out.

"Wait. What is my name now?"

He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, then with an air of finality said one word-

"John."

I never saw him again.

**Reviews are appreciated.**


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